


looking up to the sky for something i may never find

by UnrememberedSkies



Series: Whumptober 2019 Fills [5]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, All the Warnings that Come with Klaus, Attempted Murder, Drink Spiking, Drug Use, Klaus's thoughts do not reflect those of the author, M/M, Messed Up Ideas About Consent, Nothing is explicitly described, Past Rape/Non-con, Sexual Assault, The OMCs are narrative devices, The pairings are incidental, This is a rough one guys, Trauma, Undercover, Whumptober 2019, laced drink, unhealthy thought processes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 21:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21125399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnrememberedSkies/pseuds/UnrememberedSkies
Summary: Klaus was just about to order his shots when he spotted the last person he expected to see there.“Diego?”Well maybe not the last. Klaus might have fallen over in shock if it had been Luther who was stood awkwardly at the bar, but Diego - looking very uncomfortable in a short-sleeved shirt with the top three buttons undone, and some extremely clingy jeans - was an extremely close second. He didn’t look anything like himself, but his new look seemed to be going down well. He was certainly getting a lot of appreciative glances.Klaus would do anything to keep his brave strong brother away from the danger and degeneracy of Klaus's world. But when Diego has an idea in his head, it's impossible to talk him out of it.





	looking up to the sky for something i may never find

**Author's Note:**

> How do I feel about this one? I'm not sure, ask again later. Written for the [Whumptober 2019](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/) prompt 'Laced Drink'. Title from 'Andromeda' by Weyes Blood.

Klaus could feel the heavy beat of the music pulsing through his body like adrenaline. Bright strobe lights swept through the heavy darkness of the club, illuminating the spaced-out expressions of the clubgoers, packed into the cramped hot space.

Klaus was pretty sure he was sweating vodka. His mouth, on the other hand, felt like someone had scraped it raw with sandpaper. How did he not realise he was so thirsty? He twisted his head to look at the guy who was currently grinding against his ass. 

“I’m getting a drink!” he yelled. The guy replied something Klaus couldn’t make out, but Klaus assumed it was something along the lines of “have one on me”, which was very thoughtful of him as Klaus had already relieved him of a few bills, when they’d had their hands all over each other earlier. 

Klaus extracted himself from the guy’s grasp and pushed his way through the mass of gyrating bodies and made his way to the bar. He was just about to order his shots when he spotted the last person he expected to see there.

“Diego?”

Well maybe not the last. Klaus might have fallen over in shock if it had been Luther who was stood awkwardly at the bar, but Diego - looking very uncomfortable in a short-sleeved shirt with the top three buttons undone, and some extremely clingy jeans - was an extremely close second. He didn’t look anything like himself, but his new look seemed to be going down well. He was certainly getting a lot of appreciative glances.

“Klaus.” Diego didn’t sound quite as pleased to see him as Klaus might have hoped. He was stood stiffly at the bar, fingers wrapped round a glass of dark rum, eyes fixed on a point across the room. 

Klaus draped himself across the bar, trying to get into his eyeline. “What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, smirking. Diego ignored him, so Klaus held up three fingers to the barman before turning back to face his brother. “Well?” he asked, poking Diego in the arm, hard. Diego glared at him. “You batting for the other team now?”

Diego finally dragged his gaze away from whatever was holding his attention across the room and gave Klaus an indecipherable look. “I’m working,” he said, shortly. Klaus blinked up at him, waiting. “There’s been three bodies pulled up from the river. All young men, strangled and sexually assaulted before they were murdered. The last place all of them were seen was this club.”

Klaus pulled a face before downing one of the shots the barman had put down for him. “Sounds cheerful,” he said, smothering a burp. He gestured at Diego and his… attire. “So, what’s this? A honey trap?”

Diego looked at him, then looked away, blushing. “Kind of,” he mumbled.

Klaus stared at him, then snorted. “Gotta admire your dedication, bro.”

“Hey,” Diego straightened up and grabbed his upper arm, and Klaus winced. “This isn’t funny. People are dead, Klaus, innocent people.”

Klaus glanced around himself and thanked whoever was listening that he was too off his head to see the restless spirits of those poor dead bastards. The ones who were dumped in the river were never all that pretty after death.

He looked back at Diego, who had his ‘hot for justice’ face on, and wriggled out his grasp. “Okay, so who are you looking for? Maybe I can help, I might know the guy!”

Diego looked to the ceiling before taking a sip of his drink. “Let’s hope not,” he said. His face went serious. “Actually, I think maybe you should steer clear of this place, just until I catch the guy. It’s not safe.”

Klaus snorted, shaking his head as he picked up his second shot. “Diego, darling, I’ve been coming here since we were both running around in schoolboy shorts. I’m not going anywhere.”

He downed the second shot, not needing to look at Diego’s face to know that his brother was less than impressed by that statement. To his credit, Diego didn’t try and argue the point, although a small part of Klaus wished he would.

“Whatever,” Diego said, stepping away from the bar. “You stay out of my way, all right? I’m trying to catch a killer.”

Klaus shrugged and pouted as Diego moved past him, nudging his elbow as he went. “Fine!” he called after the retreating back of his brother. “I can find better company than you, anyway.”

He turned back to the huddle of dancers, considering them. The guy who was grinding against him had probably discovered his stolen cash by now. Probably best to steer clear of him. If he happened to be a serial killer Klaus didn’t want to antagonise him. Any more than he already had, anyway.

Clutching his third shot, Klaus made his stumbling way back onto the dancefloor, throwing flirtatious smiles left and right until someone’s hands rested on his hips. He turned to look at his prospective suitor and liked what he saw. He turned in the man’s grasp, shimmying his hips.

* * *

Klaus didn’t know how much time had passed, and didn’t particularly care. His partner, whose name was Jason, was a very good dancer and kind enough to share some of his stash with Klaus, and Klaus had his arms wrapped around Jason’s neck and was practically hanging off him when he was suddenly struck with the overwhelming need to pee.

He murmured as much in Jason’s ear, lips brushing against the stubble on the man’s chin as he promised he would be back soon, along with several other things Jason might enjoy. He weaved through the dancers, his vision awash with light and shadow, hearing assaulted with electronic music and that constant heavy, pulsing beat.

The toilets of the club were darkly lit, and hid all manner of sins. The distinct sounds of fucking came from the one and only cubicle, and Klaus stood frozen for a moment, listening in like a pervert. Then his bladder reminded him of its uncomfortable fullness and he stumbled over to the urinal. 

As he peed, he leaned his forehead against the grimy tile, relishing its coolness against his hot skin, the relief of the pounding headache that he hadn’t realised was more than just the music. He hated these moments of lucidity, the breaks in the fantasy when all his aches and pains and fears came flooding back.

He finally emptied his bladder and zipped up. He looked at his reflection in the cracked mirror, sweaty and pink-cheeked, with blown pupils and smudged eyeliner.

Quickly looking away, Klaus left the bathroom. Only to collide with his vigilante brother once more, literally. Klaus stumbled back, nearly falling back into the toilets. He blinked several times, trying to focus his vision and made out Diego hanging on the arm of a thickset man with very blue eyes. Klaus recognised him vaguely, but couldn’t place him.

“Diego!” he said again, holding his arms out. “Didn’t think you’d still be here!”

He couldn’t hear Diego’s reply, and his brother was looking at him strangely. Klaus’s drug and alcohol-addled brain finally caught up and realised that Diego’s gaze was unfocused. It was an unfamiliar look on someone else.

Diego was half clinging to and half being bodily supported by the thickset man with the stunning blue eyes. Klaus had never seen his brother so uncoordinated.

His brain tried to turn the wheels of thought, but it was like everything was coated in syrup, thick and sweet and sticky. “You okay?”

The man answered for him. “Your boy’s had a bit too much to drink,” he said with an easy smile that made Klaus swoon a little. “Can’t handle his liquor like you, babe.”

It was an oddly familiar tone, and Klaus screwed up his face trying to remember who the man was. He was sure he’d remember those eyes. He looked back up and realised the couple were moving away, the man guiding Diego across the dancefloor.

Klaus watched as Diego twisted his head round to look at him, bobbing and blinking as he tried to fix his gaze on Klaus. He might have imagined it, because his own gaze was too unfocused to make out much detail in the darkness of the club, but he thought that maybe Diego was saying his name.

Soon, the pair had disappeared into the throng of bodies, and Klaus indulged in a full body shake to rid himself of the weird feeling that had crept up his spine when confronted with his brother and his conquest.

Except that man hadn’t looked like a conquest. He’d looked like a predator. Something Klaus recognised all too well. And Diego hadn’t looked like his strong, brave, vigilante brother. 

He’d looked like a victim.

No. That wasn’t Diego. Diego wasn’t like that; he wasn’t like Klaus. Klaus got himself into stupid, dangerous situations, invited the lewd looks and pawing touches of men who wanted to fuck and _hurt_. Diego knew what he was doing. He was probably playing with the man, like a cat toying with a mouse. Klaus almost felt sorry for the guy: thinking he’d picked up some pretty boy with dark eyes and full lips, only to find himself facing the full wrath of the Kraken.

Diego would be okay. Diego was strong and capable. He’d never get himself into a dangerous situation. At least not one that he couldn’t get out of.

Klaus looked up as a tall lithe body crossed his vision. Jason. His hands found their preferred position on Klaus’s hips.

“Thought you’d disappeared on me,” he said with a lazy grin. Klaus brought his hands up to the man’s shoulders.

“As if I would,” he said, leaning in. “I know a good thing when I see it.” He leaned in and kissed Jason, who was all hard mouth and soft lips and forceful tongue.

Jason pulled back, his hand brushing against Klaus’s exposed collarbone. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Klaus gave a wonky smile. “God, yeah.”

Jason slung his arm over Klaus’s shoulders and began to guide him across the crowded club. The movement brought the memory of Diego on the blue-eyed man’s arm jolting back into the forefront of Klaus’s mind.

Klaus knew the effect of too much to drink. He was also very familiar with the effects of drugs. Diego had been uncoordinated and confused, his limbs heavy and his face slack, unable to focus his vision or form words.

Diego wasn’t that good of an actor.

Klaus suddenly became aware of his heartbeat thudding in his chest, louder even than the music. He wasn’t aware he had frozen where he stood until Jason’s voice made its way through the noise.

“You okay, babe?”

_ Can’t handle his liquor like you, babe._

Klaus knew that voice. He knew those blue, blue eyes.

Suddenly he was moving, faster and with more determination than he’d ever moved in his life. He darted between the dancers, shoving when there was no other way through. He pushed through the doors to the club, past the bouncers, and onto the street. He glanced around wildly.

“Diego!” he shouted, running out onto the road and spinning around, eyes wide and frantic. “Diego!”

“Hey, man, get off the road, come on.” It was one of the bouncers, stepping towards him, determined not to let some drunk junkie get knocked over by a car on his watch.

Klaus whirled around to face him. “Have you seen my brother?” he asked, desperation making his voice shrill. “Latino guy, my height, wearing a white shirt and jeans. He was with… a big guy, with really blue eyes.”

“Yeah,” the bouncer said, looking relieved Klaus wasn’t set on staying in the middle of the road. “They went that way.” He pointed towards the alleyway at the side of the club.

With a rushed thank you, Klaus ran over to where the bouncer had pointed, ducked into the darkness of the alleyway.

It took a minute for his eyes to adjust, the streetlights didn’t reach this far. His heart was still thudding in his ears but soon a low voice managed to seep through into his consciousness. He took a few tentative steps forward, squinting into the shadows.

Two figures came into view, and Klaus nearly threw up, alcohol and ecstasy churning in his stomach. The scene was all too familiar, although it was strange and unsettling to see it from this perspective.

Diego was pressed against the wall, slumped and languid. Leaning against him, was the blue-eyed man, one large hand on Diego’s neck, thumb pressed to his clavicle and his knee shoved between Diego’s legs. Evan. The man who had earned a place in Klaus’s nightmares alongside the ghosts and the mausoleum. 

Klaus stood trembling, unable to move his feet, unable to comprehend the scene before him. Then, as if sensing something, Diego turned his head towards him, moving it like it was a dead weight atop his shoulders. His mouth was slack and his eyes were hazy, but alert enough to show something else.

_Fear_, Klaus realised. He’d always hated seeing it in his favourite brother’s eyes.

He had to make it stop. Diego shouldn’t be afraid. Klaus was the scared one. He looked away from his brother, at his attacker instead. He watched Evan lean into Diego’s exposed neck, and Klaus could feel the wet heat of his breath like it was on his own skin.

With an animalistic cry, Klaus ran towards the pair. He threw himself at Evan, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, trying to wrench him away. “Get! Off! Him!”

Evan snarled, his hand leaving Diego’s neck to backhand Klaus across the face. “Fuck off, Klaus.”

Klaus fell back, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. He lay there, winded, for a few moments, before turning back to face the other two. Evan was messing with Diego’s fly, trying to shove his hands down his pants. Diego’s mouth was moving, and Klaus heard the tiny ‘no’ that he breathed out like a siren.

If Diego didn’t have a voice, Klaus would have to lend him his. He took a deep breath, and screamed.

“Help! Please, somebody help!”

Evan swore and lurched back, took a step towards Klaus, a murderous look in his eye, before his gaze darted up to something behind Klaus, and he turned and ran, through to the other end of the alley.

Without his support, Diego sagged to the ground, his head slumping, then jerking up, like he was trying not to fall asleep. Klaus scrambled over to him, reached out before stopping an inch away from his arm. He pulled his hand back, and tucked it in his lap.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. A part of him still expected Diego to leap to his feet shouting ‘aha, this was all part of my heroic plan’, like some campy comic book hero. But Diego didn’t move, his gaze fixed on the wall opposite them, and Klaus didn’t know whether to be glad he could finally focus his vision, or worry that Diego was going catatonic. 

“Diego?” Klaus risked touching his arm to get his attention, only for Diego to flinch at the contact. Klaus immediately withdrew his hand, tucking it under his armpit to stop it from shaking. “We need to get you home, okay? Can you stand?”

“Home,” Diego murmured.

Klaus nodded. “Yeah, home. Get you out of this gross alleyway.”

“No,” Diego said, moving his head in a slow movement of negation. “No home. No Acad’my.”

“No, not the Academy,” Klaus agreed, wondering what Daddy Dearest would have to if he saw _two_ sons stumbling home with their systems filled with drugs. Not that it was Diego’s fault, of course. He hadn’t brought this on himself. Not like Klaus had. “Back to the gym, y’know. Your cute little boiler room.”

Diego made a non-committal hum, which Klaus took as an agreement. 

“You need to stand up, though. Can you do that? Or do you need me to help you?”

Diego dropped a hand to the ground and tried to push himself up. His whole body trembled with effort, and he dropped back down, exhaling a frustrated rush of air.

“Help,” he said, quietly. It didn’t sound like a request, but Klaus could count on no hands the number of times he’d heard Diego actually ask for help.

Klaus got up into a crouch, and slid a gentle arm underneath Diego’s. Thankfully, Diego didn’t flinch this time. If he did, Klaus thought he might cry. With great effort, and not a little nausea, he managed to get Diego to his feet.

It was not so bad once Diego was upright, although he did lean heavily on Klaus as they made their slow way up the alley back to the front of the club. Klaus was not feeling particularly steady on his feet himself, but somehow, seeing Diego in trouble had overridden all the drugs and alcohol clogging up his system. The situation had forced him to be responsible and strong, neither of which he was very familiar with.

They got out onto the street. The bouncers were dealing with a fight that had broken out in the entrance of the club, so they hadn’t been coming to their rescue anyway. It was lucky Evan spooked easily. 

Klaus guided Diego down the road a little, away from any prying eyes. Then he set about trying to flag down a taxi. Klaus usually walked everywhere or got lifts with people he’d picked up in bars. Getting a taxi was much harder than it looked. It seemed that most cabs weren’t all that willing to pick up a half-dressed junkie and barely conscious man clinging to each other on the side of the road.

A good twenty minutes later, one finally took pity, and slowed to a stop alongside them. Klaus opened the door and gently bundled Diego into the back seat, sliding in after him. Diego’s head lolled against the headrest.

When the cab pulled up outside the gym, Klaus handed the driver the notes stolen from whatshisname, probably seriously over-tipping, and helped Diego out of the car. The gym was eerily quiet as they walked along the corridor to the boiler room. Klaus was breathing quite heavily under the strain of supporting Diego, and, perhaps more truthfully, due to years of substance abuse and poor diet. Still, he managed to manoeuvre Diego through the door and down the stairs, before guiding him over to his bed, where his brother promptly passed out. 

Klaus looked down at him helplessly, never having been in the situation where he had to put someone to bed before. He knelt down to unlace Diego’s boots, checking his face every other second to make sure Diego wasn’t uncomfortable with the touch. But his brother was dead to the world.

Klaus sat back abruptly on the floor, winded by a sudden realisation. He could have left Diego to it, gone home with Jason, and would never have known what was happening to his brother. He could have left Diego in the alleyway with that monster, drugged and helpless. He could have woken up the next morning and seen his brother’s ghost staring down at him, angry and resentful, with a necklace of purple bruises around his neck.

He was hyperventilating, he realised, desperately trying to suck in air, scrabbling at his own throat. He rolled onto his side and clutched at the ratty rug with numb fingers. 

He needed to pull himself together. He needed to be strong, like Diego. Not weak, like Klaus.

He sat up and tried desperately to regulate his breathing, tears blurring his vision. He blinked them away, and focused on Diego’s boots. His brother couldn’t sleep comfortably with his boots on. It was Klaus’s responsibility to make sure his brother was comfortable.

He unlaced the boots and slipped them off Diego’s feet. Then, he stood and nudged his feet further onto the bed. Diego was lying on top of the blanket, but he must have a spare, Klaus reasoned. Normal people had spare blankets, right? He glanced about the boiler room, and thought perhaps he and Diego were not the best gauge of normal.

He hunted for a blanket for a bit, finally finding one in a bottom drawer. He gave it a sniff, and once satisfied it was relatively clean, draped it over his brother’s sleeping form.

He hugged himself and watched Diego sleeping for a few more minutes before going to have another root around to see if Diego kept any alcohol in the flat. He felt unsettlingly sober considering everything he’d consumed over the past few hours, but felt it might be a little insensitive if he popped one of the pills he still had left.

He found a dusty half-empty bottle of cheap whisky under the sink, and took it over to the chair next to the chest of drawers. He pulled his knees up to his chest and cradled the bottle in the dip of his body, taking a trembling gulp of its contents at regular intervals.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because the tense quiet of the boiler room was replaced by the anguished cries of the dead as they moaned his name and clawed at him with cold, wet fingers.

* * *

Klaus jerked awake and flinched at the thud of the empty whisky bottle as it hit the floor and rolled away. He sat trying to catch his breath for a moment when a low voice came from the bed.

“You’re still here.”

Klaus froze, then lowered his feet gingerly, leaning forward to look at his brother. Diego was sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees. He was looking down at the floor, not at Klaus.

Diego didn’t sound angry, or accusatory, or even relieved. He didn’t sound anything really. As such, Klaus wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I- uh, didn’t want to leave you.”

Diego didn’t respond, and Klaus wondered if maybe he’d fallen asleep. He got to his feet, hovered in front of Diego for a second, before deciding to do something useful. He ran the tap and poured Diego a glass of water, padding back over and holding it out. Diego didn’t move.

“Um, Diego?”

Diego looked up slowly, his gaze landing on the glass of water, and reached out to take it. He didn’t meet Klaus’s eyes.

Klaus watched as he downed half of the glass. “Do you have any aspirin? That will help with the- the headache.”

Diego looked at the water contemplatively, expression unreadable. “Drawer next to the sink.”

Klaus hurried over and plucked the packet from the drawer. He popped out two of the tablets and dropped them in Diego’s outstretched hand. Diego looked at them for far longer than Klaus had ever looked at pills he was about to take, before swallowing them and taking a sip of water.

There was a long silence, and Klaus could feel the tension rising like a water level, ready to drown them both. They both decided to break the silence at the same time.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“How the hell do you do this to yourself every single day?”

“What?” Klaus asked, confused. Diego didn’t acknowledge his question. “What do you mean?”

Diego finally looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and Klaus saw anger in them, and something else. “How do you drink and dope yourself up every day, so you don’t know what you’re doing and can’t control your body? Why would you purposely do that to yourself?”

Klaus blinked rapidly, gaping at him. “I- I don’t- It’s different.”

“Like hell it’s different. I’ve seen what that shit does to you and I know it’s the same.”

The worst thing about it was that even though Diego’s eyes blazed with anger, his voice still kept the same level tone. Klaus would rather he shout.

Klaus closed his eyes, reminding himself that this wasn’t really about him, it was Diego, projecting his pain and feelings of helplessness onto Klaus. He wasn’t trying to hurt Klaus, even if Klaus deserved it.

“Diego,” he said, going to crouch in front of him, wishing for all the world he could swallow down some pills right now, make the world a little softer around the edges, a little easier to handle. “This isn’t about me. This is about you, and what- what happened to you. I know you’re feeling vulnerable-”

The sound of shattering glass a few feet behind him made Klaus jump. Diego had thrown the water glass. Diego stood up, towering over Klaus. “I’m not vulnerable,” he hissed, before stalking over to the sink.

Klaus got to his feet, and turned to watch as Diego turned on the tap, leaning down to splash water on his face. He could walk away now, leave Diego to deal with his grief and trauma by locking it away and distracting himself with some unhealthy obsession. That was what Klaus did. That was what Klaus had always done.

But Klaus was an ugly broken thing, who belonged in the gutter along with the rapists and murderers. He willingly participated in that world, knowing of its dangers and even embracing them. 

Diego wasn’t like that. He still had his morals and his strong sense of justice, things Klaus had shed years ago when he realised there was no place for them in his world. Diego had been dragged into that world because he wanted to help some of its worthless inhabitants. His strength and nobility had nearly got him killed.

There was no hope for Klaus; he had already fallen too low. But there was still hope for Diego. He needed to know that what happened to him was not his fault, that he was a good person, not a desperate junkie who would do anything for his next high. He needed to acknowledge that what was done to him was wrong, the despicable actions of a monster who was determined to destroy something beautiful.

He had to make Diego understand.

“You _are_ feeling vulnerable,” Klaus said, voice catching as Diego turned a look of fury on him. “I know you are because that’s how I felt.”

He watched the subtle change of expression on his brothers face, the lines of anger turning to furrows of confusion. He didn’t let Diego say anything, though, he needed to make him understand first.

“He didn’t need to spike my drink, not really. As you pointed out I was already off my head. Would have been anyone’s for a cigarette or a line of coke.” He laughed humourlessly. “But that’s not what it’s about, for him. He likes us pliant, malleable, _quiet_.” 

He saw Diego flinch and hated himself for it. “So, he did to me what he did to you. He slipped something in my drink so strong I could barely remember my own name. He took me outside and, well, you know.” 

Diego was gripping the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “At one point, he choked me, and I passed out. I woke up in the trunk of his car. When we finally stopped, we were at the river.” Klaus could pinpoint the exact moment realisation dawned on Diego. 

“He opened the trunk and nearly shit himself. He thought he’d killed me.” Klaus smiled, but Diego didn’t return it. “I used his shock to get away from him, punched him in the gut then ran as fast as I could for like half an hour.”

He trailed off, the conclusion of ‘and now here I am’ sounding deeply unsatisfying to his own ears.

“Klaus,” Diego said, his voice sounding wet. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“No, no, no,” Klaus said, putting his face in his hands. “You’re missing my point. I didn’t tell you to make you feel sorry for me. I told you so you know that that’s what he does. He’s a monster and he never should have hurt you, and you’re allowed to feel upset and violated because it was wrong of him to hurt you!”

Diego was frowning, looking at him with an intensity that made Klaus want to curl up and hide. “And when he hurt you,” he said, “was that wrong of him?”

“That was different,” Klaus found himself saying for the second time that morning. “Like I said, I was so high anyone could have had me. I was offering it on a plate.”

“But he shouldn’t have done it. You weren’t in your right mind, whether he drugged you or not.”

Klaus held back a groan, why was Diego being so stupid? “But it was self-inflicted! You said it yourself, I purposely made myself vulnerable.”

Diego’s face dropped in horror. “Shit, Klaus, that’s not what I meant! I didn’t mean you deserved anything that happened to you if you got intentionally wasted.”

Klaus squinted. “Why not? It’s true.”

Diego looked like he was going to cry, but Klaus couldn’t help but feel he was getting upset over the wrong thing.

“No, Klaus it’s not. You didn’t deserve what happened to you any more than…” He took a deep breath. “Any more than I deserved what happened to me.”

Klaus folded his arms. “It’s different,” he said, stubbornly. “The only reason you were there was you were being a hero; you saw what happened to those guys and wanted to help. Because you’re a good person. I was there to get high and get fucked, and… I did.” He shrugged. “I’m pretty sure anyone would be able to tell you which the greater tragedy would be.”

Diego moved away from the sink and slowly sat down on the bed. Klaus thought that maybe he was finally getting through to him. Then Diego spoke. “And if one of those bodies I saw pulled out the river was yours, Klaus, do you think I would have got over it quickly, because it was no great tragedy?”

Klaus swallowed, looking into Diego’s eyes and realising what the answer really was, even if he didn’t agree with it. He hung his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve made this about me. I don’t know how I always manage to do that.”

His hands were fidgeting, he really needed some drugs. Life was just so _goddamn hard_ without them. When he was high he didn’t need to worry about being selfish and irresponsible, he just _was_.

“No,” Diego said, standing up again. “You told me something personal and I- I’m grateful for that.” He put a hand on Klaus’s arm, squeezing gently. “That man hurt you, and…” – he swallowed – “he hurt me. But if my pain is valid, then so is yours. And if you deserved it, then _so did I_.”

At the last sentence, Klaus began to shake his head, mouth forming a protest. Diego cut him off by dragging him into a hug, holding Klaus so tightly he almost forgot about his desperation for drugs. He held Diego just as tightly, squeezing his eyes shut and basking in the feeling of security.

“I just want you to be safe.” It slipped out of his mouth, unbidden, and Klaus cringed almost immediately. It was a ridiculous sentiment. Safety had never been an option for them. Diego would think he was a naïve idiot.

“I want you to be safe, too.”

Klaus opened his eyes in surprise, but Diego didn’t move back, or get embarrassed, or make some sarcastic comment to save face. He just kept holding him.

They were children clinging to a fantasy. But Klaus had clung to a lot of fantasies before, and this one was different. This wasn’t escapism, chasing something higher and higher until the inevitable crash back to earth. 

This felt solid, like a promise. And it made him feel strong. 

Like he was worth something.

**Author's Note:**

> So I really agonised over the final part of this fic. I wasn't sure how Klaus and Diego would react to something like this, especially as this takes place during the 'Lost Years' between leaving the Academy and Reggie's funeral. But there are several hints throughout the show that imply Klaus and Diego stayed in touch during those years, and even occasionally got emotionally real with each other (ie. "you're the one who's always telling me to get clean, bro").
> 
> I wanted to keep them true to character but also didn't want to downplay Diego's trauma. In the show, I think Diego uses Klaus as a kind of proxy for his own trauma and grief, as in, Klaus's expression of grief over losing someone he loved helps Diego process his own grief over losing Patch. So that's what I tried to do here. Diego recognises and starts to process his own trauma through Klaus sharing his experiences and by addressing Klaus's trauma.
> 
> Anyway, sorry for the essay. I'm feeling a little insecure about this one, as you might have guessed.
> 
> Your kudos and comments always make me happy!


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